


Sight Unseen

by avislightwing



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: (I'm so sorry), (that was the part I wrote while drunkish), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blind Date, Farmer!Cassian, Fluff, M/M, Twerking Mention, yes lucien did call tamlin a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 20:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11996967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avislightwing/pseuds/avislightwing
Summary: Based on cardinalrachelieu's Cutthroat Fanfiction: ACOTAR Edition Generator. Prompt was:CHARACTERS: cassian and lucien; TROPE: blind date; TWIST: you must drink 3 alcoholic beverages (or 3 cups of highly caffeinated coffee/tea if you don't drink alcohol) just before writing the fic(note:  I did not follow the twist very exactly, but alcohol, caffeine, and late nights were involved)





	Sight Unseen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YouLookGoodInLeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouLookGoodInLeather/gifts).



Lucien was nervous.

He hadn’t been on a date in years. Years. He thought maybe the last time he went on a date was that twenty-seven-year-old hipster with the goatee and the beanie. His name was – God, Lucien couldn’t even remember what his name was, but he’d been a terrible kisser.

It didn’t give him high hopes for the date tonight.

His friend Feyre had been the one to set him up. Apparently now that she was getting laid on a regular basis, she thought that was the cure to all ills. _You’ll like him, I promise_ , she’d wheedled when setting up the date. _He’s totally your type._

 _Gay?_ Lucien had replied sarcastically.

Feyre had pouted. _Lucien. You’re being difficult._

_Can you at least tell me what his name is? What he looks like? So I don’t have to twerk on every guy under thirty in Rita’s to figure out who my date is?_

All Feyre had told him was that the man’s name was Cassian, and he was an acquaintance of Rhys’s.

Lucien was not getting his hopes up. Especially as this Cassian was now – he checked his watch – almost ten minutes late.

He was sitting at the bar, next to Elain and her SO, Amren. Elain had happily volunteered to accompany him _just in case_ , as he had said. Though from the way the two were making out now, Lucien didn’t think they’d be much help if this Cassian turned out to be a creep.

“Lucien Kelly?”

Lucien turned on the stool, and then – looked up. And up. He blinked several times. In front of him was an exceedingly tall, exceedingly buff, exceedingly _handsome_ man. He was the kind of fit that you didn’t get from working out – the kind of fit you got from a job where you were lifting heavy things every five minutes. He must’ve just come from that job, whatever it was, because he looked a bit disheveled:  flannel shirt partly unbuttoned, hair escaping from a messy bun, crooked smile surrounded by a five o’clock shadow.

Realizing the man was still waiting for an answer, Lucien cleared his throat. “That’s me.”

The man’s smile broadened, making his eyes crinkle. “I’m Cassian,” he said. “Your date.”

“Oh. Well. Nice to meet you,” Lucien said weakly as Cassian slid onto the barstool next to him.

“Buy you a drink?” Cassian offered.

“You don’t have to –”

Cassian cut him off with an airy wave of his hand. “Nah, I owe you for being late. Sorry about that.”

“Sure,” Lucien said, hard feelings draining away.

“It’s my boss’s fault,” Cassian confided as he motioned the bartender over. “Excuse me – a Guinness and whatever my friend wants.”

“Tullamore Dew, neat,” Lucien told the bartender.

Cassian grinned. “You have good taste. Anyways, I work at a farm about an hour away, and I _told_ Mor that I needed to get off early because I had a date, but she said, and I quote, ‘Time and tide wait for no man, Cassian, and neither do cows, so get your ass in that barn.’”

Lucien laughed. “You really milk cows for a living?”

Cassian rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. “And lift hay bales and groom horses and shit. I hope I don’t smell like work – I didn’t have time to take a shower before coming over here.”

Lucien leaned in slightly, inhaling. “You do, but not unpleasantly,” he decided, unwilling to tell Cassian as yet that Lucien found the other man’s scent of hay and manure and sweat to be kind of… attractive.

“Well, I’m glad you don’t mind.” Cassian’s eyes swept down Lucien’s form. “I thought maybe –” He broke off, flushing. “Um, what I mean to say is that you look very nice.”

“You thought that I might be a stuck-up rich pretty boy?” Lucien supplied bluntly. “I know I look it. And smell it,” he added, thinking back to the touch of cologne he put on before heading out the door. He regretted it now; he didn’t want anything to obscure Cassian’s natural scent.

Cassian grinned sheepishly. “Maybe. Anyways, what do you do for a living?” He grabbed the glass of beer the bartender slid over to him and took a sip.

“I work in human resources,” Lucien said with a sigh. “Not nearly as interesting. It’s a lot of filing papers and answering angry phone calls.”

“Wait – like, you’re a secretary?”

Lucien scowled. “Okay, yeah, I’m a secretary.”

Cassian grinned. “Nothing wrong with that. I just can’t see you fitting in at an office, with the eye and the hair and everything.” He reached out and wound a strand of Lucien’s hair around one finger, rubbing it between the finger and his thumb. “Do you like it?”

“Eh.” Lucien shrugged. “I’m pretty good at it. My boss can be a bitch sometimes, but he’s a pretty good guy, and it pays well.”

“So you’re not stuck-up, and you’re not rich.” Cassian grinned, tugging lightly at the strand of Lucien’s hair before letting it go. “But you _are_ pretty.”

Lucien took a hasty sip of his whiskey to hide his growing blush. “You’re prettier than me,” he argued once he’d set his glass down again.

Cassian gave him an exaggeratedly doubtful look, so Lucien leaned over and pinched his arm lightly. “Well, there’s more of you, isn’t there?” he said with an impish smile.

Cassian burst into laughter. “You have a point there,” he admitted. “Rhys didn’t mention you were funny.”

“Oh?” Lucien said, voice casual. “What did he say about me?”

“Nothing much,” Cassian said. “He said you were a friend of Feyre’s, and that going on a date would help me, quote, get over myself.”

Lucien raised his eyebrows at Cassian over his whiskey glass.

Cassian grinned. “I’ve been teasing the bastard non-stop about him and Feyre. Serves him right. He’s been swooning all over the place. Can’t say a word to him without him bringing her up. Anyways, Rhys insisted that being single was as good as being dead, so he’s been setting me up on dates for the past month.” Cassian leaned in, as if to tell Lucien a secret. Lucien noticed that his lips were slightly chapped, in a nice sort of way. “Between you and me, you’re the first one who hasn’t made me want to run out of the room. Congratulations.” Cassian lifted his glass and touched it to Lucien’s.

Lucien’s face felt hot as Cassian sat back up and took a drink of beer. “Thanks – I think. Though I’d like to think I rate a little higher on the date scale than that.”

Cassian made a thoughtful face. “It all depends,” he said. “I have high standards, I’ll have you know.”

“And what might those be?”

“Pretty simple, really. Be a good person. Like me for my personality as well as my good looks. Oh, and you have to like cats. I have one.”

Lucien grinned back. “Well, I can’t speak to the first qualification, but you have an absolutely sparkling personality to match your impressive biceps, and I have a cat as well.”

“Two thirds of the way there, then. What’s your cat’s name?”

“His name is Pumpkin, and he’s gigantic and orange. What about yours?”

“Muffin. She’s a tiny tortoiseshell,” Cassian said fondly.

Lucien snickered. “Did you pick the most stereotypical cat name ever on _purpose?_ ”

“Maybe,” Cassian admitted. “But I say having a cat named Muffin is one of the great joys of this life, you know?”

“Sure,” Lucien said agreeably. “Along with good whiskey –” he raised his glass in demonstration “– and winning at Monopoly.”

Cassian laughed, and Lucien felt a rush of ridiculous pleasure at being the cause. “I can’t imagine you can treat yourself to the second too often on a secretary’s salary,” he started to tease, then stopped. “I think there’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

“Hmm? Oh, hi, Elain,” Lucien said in surprise, turning on his barstool.

“Hi,” she said. Judging by the breathy quality to her voice, and the presence of at least two visible bruises on her neck, she and Amren would need to get a room soon. “Do we need to kill anyone?”

Lucien exchanged a glance with Cassian, who gave him one filled with mock horror. “No, we’re good,” he told Elain.

She beamed at him. “I’m going home with Amren, then,” she said.

“Okay.”

“To have sex.”

“ _Okay_ , Elain,” Lucien said, rather more loudly than before. “Have fun.”

“We will!” Elain said in the sing-song voice she used after three drinks, as Amren tugged her towards the door.

“I am so sorry,” Lucien said, turning back to Cassian. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t, you know, an axe murderer.”

“No offense taken,” Cassian said. “That was – erm – Feyre’s sister?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I can see the resemblance,” Cassian said thoughtfully. “They’re both equally obsessed with fucking.”

Lucien snorted into his glass. “That’s one way of putting it. Feyre set me up with you because she thinks getting me laid will cure my depression.” Then he processed what he’d just said and turned crimson. “Shit. I mean – not that – God, there were so many things wrong with that sentence.”

But Cassian was laughing. “She and Rhys were made for each other. Do you really have depression?”

“Yeah,” Lucien said. “Does that freak you out?”

“Nah,” Cassian said. “I’m on meds for ADHD, so no judgment here.”

Lucien let out a silent exhale. “I bet working on that farm helps as well, huh?”

“Hell yeah,” Cassian said. “I’ve been working for Mor since I graduated high school. College was never really for me, you know?”

Lucien nodded, then grinned. “Good thing you have the body for it, huh?”

“Are you ogling me?” Cassian accused.

“Maybe,” Lucien murmured, eyes dropping to the unbuttoned V of Cassian’s shirt. “Or maybe I’m admiring your personality.”

He was rewarded for his wit with Cassian’s laugh.

He was really starting to like that laugh.

*****

Cassian checked his watch. They’d been at the bar long enough that hordes of already-drunk college kids had started to pour in. “I guess I should head out – I start work at five thirty, and plus, Muffin gets upset if I feed her any later than eleven.”

“I should go, too.” Lucien started to stand up, but was stopped by Cassian’s hand on his arm.

“I really like you, Lucien Kelly,” he said softly. “And I’d like to do this again sometime. What do you say?”

“I’d like that too,” Lucien said, and he found that he meant it.

Cassian’s sudden smile – genuine, and bright as morning sunshine – took up his whole face. “I’ll see you soon, then.” And he leaned in and pressed his chapped lips to Lucien’s cheek.

“See you,” Lucien murmured, watching Cassian make his way to the door, with a dazed expression on his face and one hand to his cheek like he could still feel Cassian’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can also be found on tumblr at birdiethebibliophile!


End file.
